


House of Cards

by Anthillmen



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, Girl Jack, Heist, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Secret Identity, gta v - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2018-12-15 00:43:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11794875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthillmen/pseuds/Anthillmen
Summary: Years from now, when he really sits down to think about it, Ryan will be able to pinpoint the exact moment - the exact sentence - that made his life shatter to pieces.  Twenty years as the Vagabond and he had never expected his compassion to be his downfall.Luckily, Gavin and the rest of their crew were more than willing to help him pick it all back up again.





	1. The Client

“Are you sure he knows what he’s doing?”

High above Los Santos, in a penthouse apartment with spectacular, breathtaking views of every angle of the city, a man stares at his own reflection and frowns.  Though the person at the other end of the line manages to pull a quick smile from him, his reflection is really pissing him off today.  

“Alright, well, you trust him and I trust you so…”  He scowls at his hair, deep brown and down to his shoulders.  It’s styled to be just wavy enough to look like it was natural.  It had taken him a god forsaken hour, but there are appearances to be made later in the day.

“I love you too.  Be good, okay?”

The charcoal suit is perfect, tailor made just for him and fits like a glove.

Its suffocating.

They hang up and the silence that settles in the wake of his call is deafening.  He truly hates it here, in this apartment with its magazine perfect modern furniture, all stark contrasts and clean lines as pristine as the day it was purchased.  It's the kind of furniture no one ever really wants to sit on for fear of drastically destroying its value.

Or some shit.  

A high pitched buzz breaks his thought process and is the only thing that saves his black glass coffee table from a phone being spiked through it.  It’s still up for debate which one would win.

The slow walk to his doors allows him a few precious moments to bury his melancholy, throw up some walls, and plaster a smile on his face that would fool anyone.  

“Victoria!”  He throws his arms open as wide as his door and his smile reaches his eyes, deepening the lines there.

“James!  Baby-Boy!”  Victoria’s posh English accent is overly saccharine as always, accepting his hug and planting two feather light kisses on either cheek.  Her perfectly bobbed black hair smells of vanilla and she has had more work done since the last time he saw her.  Despite the fact she’s recently crossed 60, most who don’t know that wouldn’t put her much passed 40.  

Unless you look closely of course.

“You can stop calling me that any day now, you know.”  James says with a laugh.  “I’m 35 and aged out of your dating pool almost ten years ago.”

“Oh, James.”  She gives his arms a quick squeeze, not bothering to hide her appreciation for the hard muscles beneath her grasp.  “You’re special.  I’ll always hold a candle for you.”  Before she saunters past him into the apartment, Victoria gives him one last peck on the cheek.

James just rolls his eyes and doesn’t even bother wiping his face.  Victoria would never wear makeup so cheap that it transfers at the slightest touch.

“Besides,” she looks around and takes in his decor before sitting delicately atop one of his chrome barstools.  “This place needs a woman’s touch.  It's so cold here, James.  If not me, then someone.  Please.  You’ll be an old spinster soon.”  She teases.  

“I’ll take your advice into consideration.”  Which is a lie and they both know it.

Since it's before noon James doesn’t even bother asking what she’d like to drink and instead gets right to mixing her a screwdriver - light on the actual juice.  He may not partake, but the always makes sure his guests are cared for.

“I even have this lovely ex-step-daughter, beautiful girl…”

“Was she from your fourth or fifth marriage?”  Both of those had come with children, some of the later ones too but they were still too young.

Across from him Victoria takes a delicate sip at her drink while making a show of considering the question.  “You know?  I’ve completely forgotten.  But that doesn’t matter.  What matters is Jessica.  She has the most beautiful green eyes and red…”

“Victoria.  Please.”  He reaches out to grab her hand in hopes her attention will come with it.  “Didn’t you come here to talk about something important?  Something not my non-existent love life?”

“Your love life is very important to me.  Non-existent or not.  I mean you can’t just…”

“Victoria!”  James voice raises just enough to backup the way he tightly squeezes her hand.  “The gala?”

For a moment she finally stops talking and meets his eyes, staring into them as if to put up another argument.  But eventually she sighs in defeat and withdraws her hand from James’ grasp, diamond bracelets clacking on the bar top.

“Fine.  I did come to speak to you about important matters.  Two, in point of fact.  But first, the gala.  Now, go fetch a tablet or your phone or something.  You will need to take some notes.”

He walks back to the kitchen without responding and returns a moment later with a pad of paper, a freshly sharpened pencil, and a triumphant grin.  

“You can’t be serious.”

“What?  It works and it doesn’t run out of power.”

“This is embarrassing.  I can’t believe I even let myself be seen in public with you. I own one of the largest tech companies in this country - which your grandfather started and your father left to you - and one of my oldest and dearest friends won’t even join us in this century.”

When she brings up his dad James flinches internally.  But he has long ago perfecting keeping those reactions hidden.  He flips the notebook to the next clean page and writes the date at the top.  

“Electronics come with consequences and you know I like my privacy.”

The quiet tone of his reminder seems to be the only thing that has truly given the older woman pause since she came in.  She doesn’t say anything, just watches him closely for a moment then downs the remainder of her drink. 

Without prompting, James makes her another.

The next time they speak, its all business.

For two hours they focus on their upcoming charity gala, occasionally drifting off topic and back again.  There are professionals doing the actual work, of course.  But as two of the foundation’s three largest donors, they have important parts to play at something like this.  Speeches to give, potential new donors to schmooze, politicians to grease - that sort of thing.  Charity work may ultimately be for a good cause but this is still Los Santos.  It takes more than just the promise of warm fuzzies in your heart to get wheels turned.

Victoria is leaning back just a touch in the hard white couch laughing when she suddenly sits bolt upright, a serious look on her face.  “My god.  I almost forgot!”

“If this is another dating suggestion - “ James just barely moves his glass of water out of the way before she swats at his knee.  

“Hush.  This is serious.  I need your help.”

He makes a hum of agreement mixed with disbelief but doesn’t say anything.

Victoria stands and begins to pace.  When she takes a slow, deep breath, James realizes he’s never seen her go so serious so quickly.

Now he is paying attention.

“I’ll just jump right to it, shall I?  Someone has some information on me that could, well, I’ll be honest, could ruin my company.  Your family’s old company.  Their legacy.”

James’ shoulders tense.  He doesn’t like where this conversation could go.

“Can’t you get - “

“I can’t get anyone.  I can’t involve anyone I know, really.  This information - it could ruin me.  Possibly put me behind bars which is why I can’t go to the police.  It would turn some business partners against me so I can’t go to them.”

The tension suddenly racking his entire body is like concrete and no amount of practice over the years could hide the fear in his eyes.  Luckily, Victoria is standing across the room, staring out at the midday skyline. 

“Then why me?”

He holds his breath.

“I know you don’t like it when I bring up your father.  But I was hoping you may have kept up some of his old  _ contacts.”  _

James lets go with a long, slow, relieved sigh.  There’s a headache blooming behind his eyes from the release of panic.  “I’m sorry, Victoria.  I broke ties with almost everyone my father knew the day he died.  You know that.  You encouraged me to do it.”

When she looks back at him it's clear she was expecting that answer but is still very disappointed.  James gives her a small reassuring smile and joins her at the window.  He has known this woman his entire life and she has been there for him through some pretty serious shit.  She even paid him way too much for his father's business all those years ago when he had died.  James owes her so much.  He may not have what she asked for...

“But I may still know a crew that could help.”

 

* * *

 

“If you had a massive aquarium and you just put it in space, right?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gavin.  Now!?”  Behind Michael’s rage Gavin can hear the sounds of sirens, gunfire, and bullets hitting the other man’s car through his comm. If he were in real trouble he wouldn’t have answered and besides, Gavin had lost his tails five minutes ago and is starting to get bored.  He does a hand brake slide to pull his car to a stop at the pick up point and smiles up at the getaway Titan he gets to fly.  

“No!  Just listen!  You’ve got this aquarium in space right?  And it just, you just take away the aquarium its just a glob of water in space, and there is a fish in it.  Does the fish know its in space?”

Jack and Ryan answer at the same time.

“What kind of fish is it?” Jack at least plays along.

“Wouldn’t the fish just die?” And Ryan is no fun.

But before Gavin can respond the line breaks out with Ryan’s excited giggling and an explosion lights up not too far away.  “Dark and mysterious terror of Los Santos my arse.”  He mumbles to himself.  The infamous Vagabond’s been with their crew for two and half years and Gavin had spent exactly three weeks actually terrified of him.  It had become quite impossible to be truly intimidated by someone he had heard laugh like that.  Another line of explosions light up the night, silhouetting a car as it jumps through the air.  All of its doors are missing, Gavin notices.  He’s not sure if that was intentional.  The driver dives out mid jump, tucking and rolling along the ground until he kips up just in front of a grinning Gavin. 

“I’ll have you know,”  Ryan starts, smile evident in his voice even behind the mask.  The car explodes quite epically behind him.  “I have made grown men shit their pants just by staring them down.”

“Bullshit.” Gavin is still grinning.

Geoff lets out a string of curses over the line.  “That grown man was me, asshole!  Now get the goddamn plane going.  I’ll be there in thirty seconds!”  

“Duty calls, Ry!”  Gavin shouts with a laugh, hopping up the stairs and bolting for the cockpit.  He starts flipping switches, bringing the Titan’s massive engines slowly to life.

Jeremy’s laugh filters through the noise - the one that reminds everyone that at heart he will always be a prepubescent boy.  

“Heh.  Duty.”

A chorus of groans and laughter erupts, eventually dying out to the sound of Michael’s quiet and amused, “Goddamnit, Jeremy.”

When the sounds of gunfire and explosions finally die down Gavin breathes a sigh of relief.  He flips the switch to open the back hatch.  “Geoff…”

Geoff shouts in excitement, a long drawn out whoop that only ends when his tank finally hits the ground, bouncing twice.  

While Jack disengages the Cargo-Bob’s hook, Gavin continues.  “Geoff!  Did you really shit your pants?  For Ryan!?”  

“No, idiot!” He starts still over the comm. Then the tank comes to a stop in the cargo hold and the top folds open with a loud creak.  Geoff pops out, sitting on the edge and grinning like a maniac.  “I shit my pants because I was waking up from being blackout drunk in the middle of a lightning storm to find the mother fucking Vagabond standing at the foot of my bed holding a machete!”

Gavin looks over at Ryan - who has taken up the co-pilot’s seat with his legs propped up on the console - and gapes.  Ryan just shrugs.  “I’d heard he wanted to meet me.”  He’s removed his mask, though his face paint is still infuriatingly perfect.  But at least Gavin gets to see the smug grin and the way he watches for the younger man’s reaction.

At that moment Jeremy and Michael come barreling through the door in a fit of laughter, bodies nearly crashing into the opposite wall.  Michael slides down to the floor out of breath, Jeremy going for a med-kit.  They are both still laughing though, so Gavin is mostly assured they’ll be fine.  

Just one more to go.  

“Fucker shot through my new ink!”  Michael winces when he lets his body armor fall from his shoulders and lets out a string of his favorite curses trying to take off his shirt.

“You’ll have to apologize to your tattoo guy for letting someone ruin such a masterpiece.”  Jeremy replies with extremely sarcastic seriousness.

“Shut up and stitch me, Lil J.”

The calm is finally starting to settle in, Ryan quiet and grinning beside Gavin, Jeremy and Michael taking turns patching each other up - though Michael’s arm gash is the worst of it - and Geoff securing the tank with strong metal cables so it doesn't roll around in flight.  Finally, Jack bounds up the steps pulling the door and latching it behind her.

“Go, Gavin!”

Gavin just barely catches a glimpse of Geoff pulling Jack in for a celebratory snogg before he turns to finally take off.

“Bounce, Ryan.”  Jack startles Gavin while he’s making his final checks and Ryan makes a noise of protest.  

“But I wanted to watch Gavin do his first big boy flight!”

If he weren’t so caught up in what he was about to do, Gavin would make some sort of remark.  But he’s probably more nervous than he’s ever been in his life and he can’t be bothered.  There is zero room for error taking off from the top of a mountain, and none of his practice runs had the weight of a fully armed and armored military grade tank factored in.  

His silence is pretty telling.

Jack’s reply is a little softer.  “And it's my job to make sure that his first isn’t also all of our lasts.  Up.” 

This time Ryan doesn’t argue, but he does stay in the cock-pit, bracing himself between the copilot’s seat and the bulkhead behind it.

Gavin's flaps are extended, his engine is roaring, and it’s now or never.  

Gavin pushes the throttle forward and holds onto the the control wheel for dear life.  

“HOLD ONTO YOUR TITS, BOYS!”  Gavin’s eyes go wide the moment the plane starts moving, adrenaline re-surging through his veins and jolting higher with every rock and bump the Titan hits. He starts squealing, every moment they’re still on the ground his pitch going higher and higher until his voice is gurgling.  There’s a huge jerk where he almost loses it and the three in the back start screaming behind him, cursing him and shouting in all the ways they're best at.  Jack and Ryan stay calm though, both quiet and steady beside him.  Gavin's incredibly thankful for the two of them.  He pulls back on the control wheel at the last second, finally feeling the force of air beneath them and catches it, pulling the titan off the mountain and into the sky.  The first few moments in the air are the kind of shaky that makes you think the entire plane is going to come apart at the seams from the turbulence.

But it slows, and calms, and with a shout Gavin throws his hands in the air in victory. “SUCK MY KNOB!”  

“GAVIN! FUCK GAVIN WE AREN’T LEVEL YET!”  Jack grabs her own controls and pulls back, hard.  Thankfully she gets it back to where it's supposed to be before there’s any serious damage, but it doesn’t stop everyone in the back yelling up at them for the added tumble.  

“Oh, shit!”  

It takes a few minutes, but eventually, and with no more reminders from Jack, Gavin gets the plane to a safe cruising altitude and sets everything to autopilot.  

The moment the AP indicator is solidly red, relief floods through him.  It’s almost as pleasant a tingle as a post orgasm bliss.  Almost.  Maybe half as good…

Ryan grasps him on the shoulder, giving it a little shake and making the tingle of relief warm and grow into something a little more.  “Knew you could do it.”

“Now.”  Jack smiles.  “About that fish.”

 

* * *

On a hill in the North East area of town, their base overlooks the whole of Los Santos.  A beautifully appointed villa, it has room enough for everyone - even if they each have something else they technically call home.  It has a lush courtyard, two pools, a secret bunker, more arms than some military bases and twenty-four/seven nigh impenetrable security.  

Business is, shall we say, booming.

It’s the evening after the tank job and all six of their crew are lounging around the main living area joined by Lindsay and Mica.  Cuddling on an overstuffed chair are Geoff and Jack - Geoff pretending to sleep from boredom while Jack flips through channels hoping to catch themselves on the 9 o'clock news.  Sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table are Jeremy and Mica, Jeremy working on assembling some electronic device while trying to teach Mica what he’s doing.  There are half empty pizza boxes scattered around their workstation and Jeremy keeps almost knocking them off when he gets too excited about what he's doing.  At one end of the longest couch is Lindsay, arguing with Michael who is sitting next to her.  Gavin lounges across the rest, legs across Michael's lap with his feet tucked up under Lindsay.  It's quiet for the most part.  And relaxing, everyone basking in the glow of a job gone right.

“You aren’t even using the damn thing, Michael!”  Lindsay repeats for the third time.  She thumps Gavin’s bare shin when he wiggles his toes beneath her, otherwise ignoring his attempt at distraction.  

“That has absolutely nothing to do with this!”

Gavin tries whining Michael’s name to no effect.  Neither of them are paying him any mind.

“It has everything to do with this!  I would actually put it to good use!”

“Michael…”  he tries again, this time swinging his knees a little to get his attention.

“He’s mine, Lindsay.  You can’t have Mr. Snuffles.  Especially since you call him an it.  Catch your own damn Dratini.  What do you  _ want,  _ Gavin!”

“Michael.  I’m thirsty.  Get me a bev, Michael.”

“What is wrong with you?  You want me to slither out from under your legs like a worm?  Get your own drink.”

Gavin just scowls and makes a face to which Michael responds by sticking his tongue out.  They are about three twitches away from a wrestling match when Ryan’s paint covered face appears above Gavin.  

“You wanted a drink?” 

“My hero.”

When his upper body is lifted off the couch one handed by Ryan, Gavin uses every ounce of will power he has available to ignore the way getting manhandled like that lights a fire deep in his gut.  It’s put to the test when he realizes he’s now leaning against a solid wall of muscle.

“You’re an arse.”  He mumbles before taking a large swig of his drink and settling in.

“Good job, Ryan.”  Michael grouses out with a laugh.  “Encourage his fucking childish behavior.”   

Ryan shrugs with a little hum.  “I was already making it.”   
“That’s fucking worse!  Where the hell is mine?”

There’s no response from the older man, but even as Jack cuts in with an excited “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” Gavin lets himself smile into his drink and settle further against Ryan.

Jack’s excited squeal gets the attention of the entire room and they all look up just in time to see an explosion light up the screen.  Gavin can feel Ryan’s silent laughter at his back.

“...more on that later, Carol.  But first, James King, Los Santos’ most eligible yet mysterious bachelor spoke to us recently about the upcoming Arya Fund benefit.”

An outcry of exaggerated rage fills the room, Jeremy even going so far as tossing one of his many uneaten pizza crusts at the handsome face on screen.  Obscenities are tossed about and rude hand gestures flung in that direction over how they’ve been out shone by some trust fund asshole.  Everyone joins in on the fun except Ryan.  Which normally wouldn’t be strange to Gavin.  The guy can be pretty fucking stoic when he wants to be.  Honestly he wouldn’t have even noticed anything was amiss if he hadn’t been sitting practically in his lap.  But he is.  And he feels the sudden tension and when he looks back can see the way he’s working his jaw.  

Gavin doesn’t like that at all.

He reaches down next to Jeremy and grabs one of his crusts as well, tossing it at the screen.  “Guy looks like a right prick.”

“I’d fuck him.”

Geoff’s no bullshit matter of fact statement seems to break Ryan from whatever trance he’d gone into and he suddenly laughs - almost hysterically.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t fuckable.  Look.  The hotter you are the more of a bastard you are likely to be.  Alright?”

“That explains so much about you.” Ryan somehow manages while catching his breath.

“You calling me hot, Ry?”

“He’s calling you a prick.”  

Everyone looks back to see Burnie coming up behind the couch, a thick brown envelope in his hands.  The room calms down but Burnie just waves them off.  “No no.  Enjoy your newsreel. This can wait the fifteen seconds it’ll take to cover your sorry asses.”

It takes more than fifteen seconds, but not by much.  The main focus of the story is on the police chase.  Which, okay.  That was kind of the point to be distracting with it and all.  But there’s barely a blip about the tank they stole and - to Gavin and Mica at least - it’s hilariously inaccurate.

“ATTEMPT!?”  Geoff is standing, shouting at the t.v.

Which just makes Gavin laugh harder.

“What the FUCK do they mean, ATTEMPT?  We flew a fucking tank out of a military base.  IN THE AIR!”

Mica stops laughing long enough to speak.  “I knew they were trying to cover it up but, Jesus!  Dad’s been giddy all day that the asshole that runs the place was gonna be taken down a peg.  But trying to lie about it just… blatantly.”  She shakes her head.

Jack snorts.  “Maybe your dad will finally get that next star and he can take over the place.”

  
“God I hope not.”

Gavin knows how close MIca is with her family and though he’s not sure how MUCH the General knows, he knows it's enough they’ve been spared once or twice because of the connection.  Besides, if her dad did take over they would pretty much have to stop robbing the base - which would be unfortunate, and absolutely no fun at all.

“Well, that was fun, kids.  But now you have work to do.”  Burnie pulls four white envelopes and tosses them to the team members who still deal exclusively in paper and lets the others know their cuts have been transferred to their respective accounts.  Then he nods at Lindsay, who stands.  “You have a potential new client.”  He says before finally leaving the room.

Gavin wiggles and squeals in excitement.  He loves new clients and they haven’t had a big enough one for a meeting in ages.  At the same time Michael slaps him on his leg a firm hand squeezes Gavin’s shoulder. 

It’s Ryan’s touch that shuts him up.

“Alright, run down time.”  Lindsay taps something on her phone and the news cast behind her is replaced with a picture of a slightly over middle aged woman with dark curls framing the clean lines of her face.  Its a professional headshot, like for news articles or those ridiculous ‘top twenty show-offs’ he sees in mags sometimes.

“We working for Wonder Woman?”  Michael tilts his head to the side and adjusts his glasses.

Jeremy looks back at him like he’s lost it.  “She’s  _ way  _ too old to be Wonder Woman.”

“Not the new one, idiot.”  He gives the younger man a swift kick.  “The old one.  Lynda what-her-face.”

Behind Gavin, Ryan groans.  “She does not look anything like Lynda Carter.”

Gavin makes a sound somewhere between disbelief and condescension - at least, that’s what he is going for.  “You’ve got bloody paint in your eyes!  She looks exactly like her.”

“We aren’t-” Lindsay shouts to get control back “working for Wonder Woman.”  Another image appears, this time it's the Wonder Woman lady at a ribbon cutting ceremony.  “Victoria Elizabeth Sheffield.  Owner and CEO of Royal-T, the largest and most profitable tech manufacturing firm on the West coast.  Worth just over seven billion, calls Los Santos home but owns property in a dozen states and half as many countries.  She’s been married seven times and if her pattern holds true should be snagging number eight by Christmas.  A pillar of the ‘respectable’ part of Los Santos’ community.”  Lindsay actually air quotes.  “Victoria is on the board of directors for four nationally renowned charities and is the only woman to ever be on the board of directors for Maze bank.  There’s more in the emails you have all been sent, but those are the highlights.  Mica.”

“Yo!”

“You’re on her business operations.  You’re our logistics expert, find out about hers.  Find out about Royal-T’s.  Everything you can on how its run.”

“Yo!”  Mica’s already tapping away on her tablet before Lindsay finishes.

“Jack, Royal-T’s finances.  Geoff.”

“Yes Boss!”  Geoff actually salutes - he’d given up this level of management ages ago and he is enjoying the hell out of not having to herd cats.

“Personal finances.”

“Of course, Boss.  I’m on it, Boss.  Won’t let you down, Boss.”

Lindsay flips him off and continues.  “Jeremy, relationships.  All the exes and any flings or lovers whatever she has.  I want to know their dirt.”

“On it.”

With every assignment Gavin feels Ryan tensing up again.  He wonders what the hell is wrong with him or if he always goes through these cycles he’s just really  _ really  _ good at hiding it.

“Michael and Ryan.  Find her dark side.  No one in this town is clean.  I wanna know which gardens her dirt comes from and why she’s tracking it through our house.”

“Do you guys always scrutinize clients this much?”  If he weren’t already keyed into Ryan’s current - whatever the fuck is going on - Gavin is pretty sure he would have missed the odd tone in his voice.  

He shifts a bit in his seat so he can slide down and properly lay across the older man’s lap.  “Only since the Caleb thing.”  Gavin reaches up, pretending like he’s going to stick his finger up Ryan’s nose which would normally get either a crushed finger or a hard slap at his hand.

Ryan does neither - not reacting at all - and Gavin frowns, pulling his hand back.

“What’s the Caleb thing?”

A few people laugh but Geoff answers with a roll of his eyes.  “Idiot brought in a huge fucking client that he didn’t vet and none of our current clients could vouch for.  Turned out the asshole was just trying to get a look at our operations.  

“Now,” Mica cuts in. “A couple of us still do some basic leg work on everyone.”

Lindsay finishes.  “But the complete unknowns are all hands on deck.  She won’t reveal how she knows about us, we turn her life inside out making sure she’s not going to fuck us over.  Speaking of which…”

Gavin knows what’s next.  Its his turn.  “She’s one percenter rich, yeah?”  He asks, still in Ryan’s lap.

When Lindsay nods Gavin claps and stamps his feet with a quick noise of excitement.  “Time to break out the special wardrobe.”  Gavin’s job is what Gavin does best.  He gets to put in the personal touch, be the point man, the flirt.  He gets to go in grin blazing and charm the pants off people.  He’s good at planning and great with circumventing security, but hobnobbing with the rich and abhorrent is where he hits a home run every time.  

His movements are quickly angering Michael who punches him in the side of the leg.  “Special?  Your fucking shades are literally made of gold.”

“Well, yeah.  But the special wardrobe ones have diamonds, Michael.  Diamonds… in something most people lose every other month.”

“Fucking…”  not satisfied with the punch, Michael gets his arm under Gavin’s body and rolls him off the couch with a loud cry of shock.  He flops into Jeremy who gets his own lick or two in and Gavin scuffles with him until Lindsay whistles.  Both of them freeze, Gavin on his side almost wrapped around Jeremy.

“Sorry.”  Jeremy says, but Gavin just laughs.

He’s not apologizing for shit.  He hadn’t hit anyone!

“No.  You all know how - well, Ryan I guess you don’t  Okay.  Here’s how this works.  You all get one week to turn in a go-no-go.  If one person turns in a no-go, we don’t have the meeting.  Even if everyone gives her a go, I can still call it off if anything smells fishy.  Everyone got it?”

“How fishy are we talking here?  Like, fresh sushi fishy or fish market fishy?”  Geoff’s asinine question seems to break out the worst in the room and everyone starts talking at once.

“That company manufactures some military tech if remember correctly.”  Jeremy muses.  “I wonder if she’ll let us have some new model detonators.”

“If it turns out she’s into chicks, can I have Gavin’s job on this one?”  Mica’s bouncing a little excitedly and Jack scoffs in mock indignation.

“Why don’t I ever get the honey pot type mission.”

Michael rolls his eyes.  “Because Geoff would kill anyone who touched you.  Besides, this isn’t a honey pot thing he just has to flirt a little.”

Through it all, Gavin is quiet, turning to look back up at Ryan to watch him closely.  Noises continue around him, blending into a steady chaos where he can’t make any one thing out over another.  The paint is frustrating.  He can’t really get a good read on his expression.  Though he’s pretty sure he’s… worried? It's strange, to really stop and look at him.  Ok, so he stops and looks at him a lot but mostly in those wistful - really wish I knew more about him - kind of ways.  Now he’s more curious in a concerned way, wondering what’s going on in his head, if he’s always this pensive, this tightly strung, or if Gavin’s really just been that obtuse for the last two and a half years.  

A kick - possibly unintentional not that it really matters - from Michael makes the noise in the room quickly fall back into focus.   Gavin’s worry for Ryan gets shoved to the back to rest... for now.

"Jeremy can't ride the elephant!  Fucker is terrified of heights!"

With an exasperated sigh Lindsay pinches the bridge of her nose.  “I fucking hate you all.”

  
  
  



	2. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some encounters are planned, some are unexpected, and others are proving difficult to complete.  
>   
> And then still, some meetings should never have happened at all.

Days like this one, James wishes he drank.

A little liquid courage would make everything better and maybe he would be able to forget how much he despises these public appearances.  The music is light and enchanting, the soft golden lights high overhead make the massive ballroom feel like an evening under the stars.  And though James is smiling, shaking hands and making small talk like everyone expects him to it's a constant struggle not to just flee.  Twice a year - three if he’s feeling antsy - he has to make sure to show his face extremely publically.  Smile for the cameras.  Make a bit of a scene - usually a good one.  Ensure everyone knows he’s still around.  

Wasting his dead dad’s money.

Not that there actually was any.  There was a reason he had sold the company to Victoria, after all.  

“James!”  

Speak of the devil.

He turns to find Victoria gliding up to him in a sleek, silver, off the shoulder evening gown with a slit in the skirt well past her thigh.  She’s arm in arm with a much younger woman - maybe early twenties - in emerald green with deep red hair.  He has a feeling he knows who this is.

“Victoria!  Good to see you.”  He leans in to let her greet him with kisses as always then gives the young woman a smile.  “Can I go out on a limb and guess this is Jessica?”

By her blush and widening grin he knows he’s right.

He wonders what it's like to be excited someone knows your name.  James hates how many people know his.

“Yes!  This is Jessica.”  Victoria beams.  “Jessica Stewart.  I’ve been dying to introduce the two of you for ages and I’m so glad the stars aligned finally.”

Because she put them there, no doubt.  But James doesn’t let the thought reflect on his face, instead giving the young woman a slight nod.  “It is certainly a pleasure to meet you, Jessica.  We will have to have a real chat later though.  I’m due on stage in about five minutes.”  Not that its a real specific time crunch.  It will probably be fifteen or twenty before he finally makes it up there.  But it's still a good excuse.  

Though Jessica looks disappointed Victoria rolls her eyes with a click of her tongue.  “You have to promise us you’ll catch back up afterwards, dear.  I’m tired of you running away all the time.”  She admonishes. 

James tries to look chastised, he really does.  “I am sorry, but duty calls.”  He says with a private chuckle.  James makes no promises before stepping away, knowing full well he will be leaving as soon as it is socially acceptable to do so - which is likely going to be far before Victoria finishes her gossip rounds and makes it back to him.

Its beginning to get to the point where he’s worried Victoria won’t ever give up the attempts at finding him a partner.  She plays it up as a game but he has known her long enough to understand she’s genuinely concerned - in her own way.  She doesn’t need to be but he can’t exactly tell her that.  The life he has made isn’t one he can share easily… or ever.  

Nor one he can even tell the truth about.

The thought brings a sort of darkness over him.  It's a familiar darkness, one he slips into every time he thinks too much about it.  There are people he knows well, people he loves, people he - he cares for.  But all of them know bits and pieces - which is how it was designed from the beginning.  His chest hurts and he can feel that heavy tug in his gut that signals an onslaught of self hate and frustrating thoughts.  

“Mr. King?”

James nearly jumps out of his skin.

A young man stands to his side, having tapped him on the shoulder and looks anxious.  “Can you hear me okay, Mr. King?  I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute.”

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m alright.  Just let my mind go elsewhere for a second.  What’s up?”

The kid looks down at the microphone in his hands then holds it out, worry still clearly written all over his face.  “Mr. Weisman is ready to go on, if you are.”

“Thanks.”  James gives the kid a quick nod before grabbing the mic and turning towards the stage.  He doesn’t move otherwise, needing a moment to collect himself and remind himself why he keeps putting himself through this crap.  

He’s here for a reason, and the show must go on.

At the other side of the stage the man he is about to introduce gives him a cheerful wave and James finally takes to the steps.

“Ladies and gentlemen!  May I have your attention please?”  the music fades and the lights over the crowd dim just a touch, still bright enough he can make out the people below.  A loud wave of cheers and applause greets him and James gives everyone his most charming smile.  “Ladies, ladies.  Please.  Come on up and bring the gentlemen too.  You won’t have me for long.”  Like a choreographed dance the crowd ‘aws’ and he reassures them again with another smile.  He has this down to an art form.  “Thank you all so much for joining us tonight for our fifteenth annual Evening Under the Stars benefiting Arya’s Fund - a charity dedicated to the most vulnerable among us, the forgotten children.”  Here he pauses for effect, letting the poor little rich people pretend like they actually care for a moment.  It makes them feel better about themselves.  “Tonight’s gathering is made possible by the generous hearts and wallets of so many organizations in the community and for the first time in its history, every aspect of this magical evening has been donated.”  This time he pauses for applause.  As he waits, though, someone catches his attention.  

Someone not paying him any attention.  Someone in a ruby red halter dress, backless and perfectly framing the words “Brothers For Life” across her shoulders.

Someone whose companion is wearing a matching tie and has tattoos peeking out from his sleeves and collar.

Someone who shouldn’t fucking be here.  

“Uh…”

He starts again after what was hopefully not too long a pause.  “Which means that one hundred percent of your ticket prices for tonight are going straight to the children.”  This applause gives him a chance to really recover.

James takes a deep breath.

“Here with us tonight, to tell you what the foundav - found…”

James hangs his head and sighs, everything in complete suspense around him.

Because he has just seen a third person who is _not supposed to be here._ With deep, tanned skin, frosted hair and one distracting fucking smile.  

And he’s staring right up at him.

“You know what?”  He looks up and out over the crowd, giving them all a smooth smile and self deprecating laugh.  “Someone needs to get me the bartender’s card because he is officially invited to all my parties.”  The amused laughter signals a smooth enough recovery which means he’s thirty seconds away from freedom.  “I'll start that sentence again, shall I?  Here with us tonight, to tell you all about what the foun _da_ tion has been doing the last twelve months - and maybe pick a pocket or two while he has you all mesmerized - is the chairman of our board.  Please welcome, Dr. Mark Weisman!”

Around him the crowd roars with applause and even though they are all sufficiently distracted by the jolly old man taking the stage, his own exit takes far too long for his liking.

It's not the end of the world.  He knows this.  But he hadn’t planned for it - because he is an idiot - and it’s kind of putting him off his game.  At the bottom of the stage he stops to get his bearings.  He needs to leave.  He needs to leave now.  And he needs to leave as inconspicuously as possible.  

“Excellent speech, James.  Almost had even me convinced you were actually drinking.”

Suppressing his groan at hearing Victoria’s voice takes everything he has left.  By the time he turns around he’s mostly convinced he’s got the ‘charm’ fully back in place.  Victoria has been waiting for him, still with Jessica at her side, and James’ escape plan is completely fucked.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavin is on cloud fucking nine.  

Opulence surrounds him.  Money drips from the people in the ballroom in the form of platinum, gold, and precious stones.  Everyone here has more money than they know what to do with, spending more than they should on items they don’t need just so they can show off and say they did.  Truly terrible people, the lot of them - pretending to be so good.  Of course, he is too, right now.

Except that its for a job so its really work…

It's complicated.

What is important is that he is having fun, looks amazing in his custom tailored, navy dinner jacket and pastel pink shirt that’s unbuttoned just enough to show off his tanned skin, is ready to put on a show at the drop of a hat, and could fleece almost anyone in here in less than a single night.

“Have you seen her yet?”  Jack asks while Gavin takes a sip of his champagne.  

Gavin just shrugs, not even really looking yet - the night is young, after all.

Besides, Geoff and Jack are looking around enough for all three of them.  “Jeremy says she makes a point to talk to everyone at these things, so she’s gotta be here somewhere and like, all night.”  He assures them both.

While they scan Gavin strides further into the crowd, smiling - sometimes with a cheeky wink - at a few of the men and women he passes.  He makes a slow and steady path, making sure not to look like he’s looking for someone specific but rather just casually looking for anyone he knows.  About halfway through his planned walkabout he slows to turn and look up at the man speaking on stage -

And stops.

It’s James King.  That much he recognizes immediately from the news cast earlier in the week.  He’s got a smooth smile and little swagger in the way he works the crowd.  Gavin can’t help but smile at him, at the way he seems so at ease.  Geoff wasn’t wrong.  He’s quite good looking, even better in person to be honest.  When James seems to lose his train of thought on stage it’s even kind of cute - makes him seem more human and less above them all like the newscast makes him out to be.  Gavin honestly can’t help but smile.

Somewhere in the back of his head Gavin knows it's a trick of perception, that everyone in a crowd in front of a stage within a certain distance thinks at some point ‘oh he’s looking right at me’ but he swears the guy makes eye contact with him then proceeds to completely lose it.  Which just makes the thought of ‘oh no he’s hot AND adorable’ so much worse, because you can tell he’s embarrassed but it just makes it all _better_ somehow and Gavin is taking silent credit for that.

When Dr. What-his-face takes the stage though, Gavin wanders off again.  He’s not actually interested in what the foundation is doing and despite trying to make Jack and Geoff play it cool, he still has a job to do.

There are several hundred people milling about the massive venue, only half of them really focused on the stage.  The rest are divvied up between the various bars and lounging areas, some gathered in small groups on the edges of the ball room, a few high up on the balcony, looking down over the crowd.  Upstairs is the VIP lounge, exclusive and expensive to get into.  It had taken them some serious effort to get Gavin a ticket into that area and even then he’s not technically on the list, just using someone else’s pass - someone who had magically found something better and safer to do for the evening at the very last second.  He’s been up there once already, but there aren’t even a dozen guests yet.  That section is the kind of place that doesn’t really kick off the party until the main one is starting to get ‘boring’ for the seriously elite.  

The west side bar is a bust, though he does strike up a short conversation with two beautiful women to keep from seeming out of place.  They promise to try and find him again later when he excuses himself, but honestly, Gavin doesn’t even remember their names.  

On a second loop back through the ballroom, this time keeping to the edges and scanning the crowd every time he takes a small sip from his champagne flute Jack and Geoff corner him again, this time near an almost hidden side exit.

“It’s been over an hour and we still haven’t found her.” Geoff complains.

“There are a massive amount of people in here, Geoff.”  Gavin reminds him of the obvious.  “And we aren’t exactly asking around.  ‘Hey, sorry to bother you, luv.  Have you seen the old bird runnin’ the place?  We have a clandestine meeting involving incredibly illegal activity to set up with her.’”  For his cheek, Gavin gets a seriously hard punch in the arm from Geoff.

Jack taps her lips with a single finger, thoughtful.  “Maybe she didn’t come?  Got sick or something?”

“Nah.”  Both men reply.  The older one continues.  “She’d have to be dead to miss this party.  This is _her baby._ ”

“Well have you checked all three bars?” She asks.

“Yes.”  Gavin tries not to roll his eyes. “Twice.”

“VIP Lounge?”

He looks towards the ceiling and takes a deep breath.  “There’s maybe fifteen people up there right now.  I’m not an idiot, Jack.”

“What about backstage?”  And the fact that Jack just keeps going is probably the most frustrating.  

“I can’t go there, _Jack_.  It’s not like there’s normal people just hangin’ about backstage.”  

“So you’re saying you’re not good enough to either swindle your way back there or sneak in?”  Jack gives him an amused look which just gets Gavin’s dander up even further.  Especially when Geoff starts laughing.

“Of course I could get back there if I wanted to.  But I don’t want to.  It's a terrible idea.  This is supposed to be a casual meeting, yeah?  I can’t just ‘bump into someone’ when I’m somewhere I’m not supposed to bloody be, can I? You two idiots go back there!”

Geoff rolls his eyes.  “Well that’s a dumb idea.”

Screaming is not the best thing he could be doing at this juncture, but it's the first one that comes to mind.  Gavin makes a muffled squeak with his mouth closed up tight, trying to hold back his anger.  “You’re both a couple of dolts.  Now just piss off and let me work.  And if you do see her, for god’s sake, just send me a text.”

Eventually, through no effort of his own because each half of the couple is infuriatingly pig headed on their own and when they’re together fucking _impossible,_ Jack and Geoff manage to leave him alone.  

Gavin stays back against the wall for a moment watching them wander away and wishes not for the first time this evening that he had been able to talk the two of them out of coming.  They aren’t exactly NOT helping but they certainly are worrying far too much.  He completely one hundred percent has got this.  Their meddling is just making everything harder, and when he does finally find the woman he’s going to have to put in a lot of extra effort not to still looked cheesed off because of them.

When Gavin turns to finally go the opposite direction he’s thoroughly distracted and not paying anything any attention.

Which is how he winds up running into someone extremely solid.  

“Aw, tits.”  He slowly looks over his attacker slash victim and freezes with his mouth hung open wide when he sees some seriously beautiful blue eyes.  They cause him to pause and look closer, deeper.  Because they are achingly familiar yet, somehow, off.

Which is absurd.

Because they are attached to James King whom is not only now covered in the remainder of Gavin’s champagne, but also someone who up until this moment he has never met before in his life.

And stage and television doesn’t count because the cold facade of the screen could never capture that deep…

“Uh.”

James’ noise of confusion breaks Gavin’s train of thought and snaps his attention back to the fact that they are both just standing there staring at each other, Gavin’s champagne flute still sideways in his hand, the sparkling liquid dripping steadily from the other man’s front.  

“Balls.”  Gavin starts.  “Damn it.  God, I’m sorry.  I just, I just wasn’t looking where I was going and you kind of came out of nowhere.”

For a moment the awkward silence returns.  Gavin holds his breath while James looks him over.  It's not the usual visual dressing down he gets but rather, well, it's almost as if the other man is looking for something.  

Whatever it is or isn’t the lines of his brow eventually ease and a small smile slowly spreads across his handsome face.  “Well, if everyone who didn’t look where they were going looked more like you I might come out of nowhere more often.”

“That… I’m not sure if that didn’t make any sense or I’m just an idiot.”

James laughs, soft and quiet and Gavin’s heart skips a beat right up into his throat because it is fucking beautiful.  “More likely it's neither.”  The other man looks around the room and reaches behind his neck to scratch nervously, hand beneath some seriously luscious looking dark brown locks.  He looks back and forth from the room to the door just behind Gavin.  “Look, I uh.”

“No no.  Its fine.  You’re James King, yeah?  You’ve probably got loads of other folks you still have to flirt with and I’m just here making you all wet.”

James looks as if he has no idea what to say to that until his expression changes in a flash and he slaps his forehead.  “I didn’t ask your name.  I should at least know the name of my attacker.”

“Free.”  Gavin replies immediately, in his best exaggerated Connery voice.  “Gavin Free.”  It earns him another laugh and he feels like he’s struck gold.

“Well, it was a pleasure being run into by you.”  James says easily.

Gavin smiles.  “Maybe next time you can run into me.”

There’s a moment where Gavin thinks he is going to respond but the other man just gapes for a beat, his cheeks growing flush.  With an awkward wave of his hand and a stupid grin on his face, James steps around Gavin and disappears through the side door.

For a minute he stares at where the other man had stood, blinking with a dopey grin on his face.  It's not often - or really ever - that Gavin feels genuinely affected by meeting someone like that.  There was just something, well, different this time.  Like part of him already knew the guy and was just waiting for the rest of him to catch up and get with the program.  

His walk back into the crowd feels a little lighter.

By now the big speech of the evening is finished.  On stage people work to set up for the B-list pop star they’ve roped for the party and the crowd has started to scatter, going back to not really doing anything specific beyond drinking and talking and just generally milling about.

Deciding that the bar on the far left of the room is going to be the best place to start his third round - both of room surveys and drinks - Gavin heads that direction.  It’s sort of a meandering direction, truth be told, but that’s his destination, anyway.  That’s the important part.  

He’s not sure if it’s because of his encounter with the man and he’s noticing more, or just that he had just been on stage (probably the latter) but Gavin seems to be hearing James’ name on everyone’s lips he passes.  Men discuss his business dealings (or lack thereof) and women his extreme eligibility.  Okay, some of the men are discussing that too.  And honestly it’s not really _everyone_ but he seems to zero in on anyone who is.

It doesn’t stop when he gets to the bar.

“I had to have made the _worst_ impression ever.”  A young woman leans against the bar, face in her hands, while another pats her on her shoulders.  

“It isn’t that bad, Jessi.  You know how private he is.  Maybe he’s got someone at home who is even more private than he is and he’s just not telling anyone about them right now.”  

“No. Victoria would have said something.  I’m just awful.”

Now Gavin is really paying attention.  It’s not an uncommon name, to be sure.  But he knows when to at least wait around a bit.

The woman who is still upset is dressed in an emerald green dress, her long red hair pinned to the side, flowing over one shoulder.  He can’t see her face, nor does he make a serious attempt, doing his best to look interested in getting the bartender's attention.  

“You are not.  You’re wonderful.  Now stand up straight and stop boo-hooing over one guy that you don’t even know.”

Jessi’s tone grows defensive and Gavin catches her standing bolt upright out of the corner of his eye.  “I’m not boo-hooing.  And just because I don’t know him doesn’t mean I can’t!  Forget the money Victoria keeps talking about, have you _seen him?_ He’s like.. So…”

“Please don’t go trying to get poetic on me.  It always turns out terrible.  Besides, there’s gotta be a reason everyone calls him James _the Mad_ King.  Jess, there’s something wrong with the guy.  There has to be.  Why else would Victoria have reached out to you?  She hasn’t talked to you since she dumped your dad.  She’s desperately trying to find someone for him.”

Now Gavin knows they are talking about the Victoria he’s looking for.  He may do dumb shit from time to time, but he’s smart enough to remember from their call with Lindsay before the party that the woman bought James’ company when his dad had died, so they obviously know each other.  The connection is enough for him to stick around.  

Jessi is silent for a moment, then says quietly, almost too low for Gavin to hear.  “Just because he’s alone doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him.”

_God, isn’t that the truth._  Gavin thinks while he thanks the bartender for his drink.  

Either Jessi’s friend doesn’t hear her or is ignoring her because she doesn’t respond directly, rather barrelling on on her own train of thought.  “He’s probably like, some criminal mastermind or something, galavanting off to Europe and some non-extradition countries for most of the year so he can’t get in real trouble when he’s inevitably caught.  I mean, come on. Who else with that much money who is _that good looking_ stays hidden all the time?”

Gavin can think of a few people, but he’s not technically part of this conversation so he just sips his champagne in proper eavesdropper silence.  Besides, he knows almost every single criminal in this town and a lot of the others in the country to boot.  There’s only three true ‘masterminds’ he doesn’t know and even then he knows they exist, just not who they really are.  James King is _way_ too young to be one of them.  

He doubts James King does anything more illegal than speeding and avoiding taxes from time to time.  

“Oh god.”  Jessi groans and Gavin almost forgets himself and turns to look at her, shaking his head at the last second.  “Here she comes now.  What am I going to say she’s gonna be so… pushy.”

This time Gavin does turn and smiles triumphantly.  

Victoria is heading straight towards them.

It’s perfect timing, really.  He gets to make his grand entrance and allow the young woman he’s been spying on a chance to escape if she really wants it.  Jessi and her friend (he never caught her name) will have to thank him later.

He takes a few steps away from them, making sure he’s in Victoria’s path, and takes another sip of his drink, looking slowly around the room as if he hasn’t a care in the world.  Victoria approaches slowly, her form fitting silver evening gown glittering in the soft lights of the ballroom, showing off an extremely well fit body for someone in their sixties.  

She actually catches his eyes first, and Gavin strikes.

“I’m sorry.”  He says, turning to face her and smiling when she slows out of politeness.  “But you look so familiar.  Did - did I read about you on Forbes the other day?”  Gavin knows she’s an extremely vain woman and isn’t surprised at all when she does fully stop at that, even if her gaze is curious.  

“That is certainly a possibility.”  She glances behind him but doesn’t leave.  “I’m in and out of that site’s radar from time to time.”

Here Gavin gives her his best, brightest smile, letting his eyes flicker over her form in an obvious manner.  “Maybe it was forty under forty or something like that?”

Victoria’s cautious gaze disappears in an instant, lips quirking to the side in a sly smile.  “You certainly know how to flatter a woman, Mr?”

“Oh where are my manners?  I’m Gavin Free, Ms. Sheffield.”  He gives her a small nod and reaches for her hand.  Victoria, surprising Gavin, allows him to brush his lips softly against her knuckles.  

“Mr. Free, then.  If it was recent it was more likely the top ten women in tech.  Unfortunately I didn’t earn the headline spot this year.”

Gavin nods and pretends to think about it for a moment.  “Of course!  How stupid of me.  That was Maci… Mary…”

“Melanie Dungan.”  She answers for him with no small amount of venom in her voice.  “The tart takes over from Workman when he dies and suddenly she’s the most powerful woman in the industry?  Please.”  

“A travesty of the highest order, to be sure.”  Gavin’s exaggerated affront on her behalf earns him a good natured eye roll and a smile.  “It must have been an oversight on the part of the author.  I’m sure they will fix it next year.”

“You’re too kind, but you are right of course.”  Victoria pauses, her own gaze making a slow and steady head to toe appraisal of Gavin, not at all as quick as his own.  She seems appreciative, and Gavin can’t help but preen a little.  These are the types of looks he’s used to.  “Do you plan on being here the rest of the evening?”

“I’ve got nowhere else I’d rather be.”  He assures her.

“Then I must say it has been a pleasure…”

“Please, the pleasure is all mine.”

“But I do apologize, Mr. Free.  I was headed to VIP lounge so if you will -”

“What a coincidence, I was hoping to check the area out myself.”  At this Victoria’s smile all but disappears, eyes growing extremely curious.  He continues on as if nothing had changed.  “May I be allowed the pleasure of escorting you?”  

Now he’s treading on thin ice, relying on his good looks and charming smile to get him through the next few bits of fakery.  “I’m afraid there’s a very small list of guests allowed upstairs, Mr. Free.  And I know them all.  As much as I would truly like to know you,” she pauses and the lecherous smile she’d had a moment ago returns for a heart beat “ _better_ … I’m afraid you aren’t on it.”

“Oh?”  Gavin frowns and reaches into his pocket.  “I was under the impression all I had to have was the golden ticket?”  He shows her the invitation he’d managed to get earlier in the day.  “A dear friend of mine was suddenly unable to make it this evening and insisted I go in his place.”  Gavin leans in, speaking quietly.  “I did make an in kind donation, of course, since I hadn’t paid for the ticket originally.”  He assures her.  

For a long moment, Gavin holds his breath as she considers him.  It wouldn’t all fall apart, in the long run, if he doesn’t get the in.  If she says no, turns him away, they’ll just make another contact point. She’ll get a mysterious letter in her mail or something like that setting up a time and place.  But Gavin, and the crew, like to impress people.  They make scenes when they’re doing bad things because it's fun and even though they don’t want people to know who they are individually, they want people to _know they were there._ It’s no different when facing a client.  Make it personal.  Make it mean something.

Make it memorable.

In silence, Victoria holds out her arm for him to take.

With a wordless nod he does, and they head towards the grand staircase arm in arm.

Internally, he’s fisting the air in victory and breathing a huge sigh of relief.  

Unfortunately for Gavin, his feeling of victory doesn’t really last that long.  

Halfway up the stairs Victoria guides them to a stop, taking two steps above Gavin for herself and turning to look down at him him.  “Mr. Free.”  She begins, very serious, and very quietly.

“Please, call me Gavin.”

With a stern look she gives him a subtle shrug of her shoulders.  “We shall see.”  She looks out over the crowd and Gavin is acutely aware of how there aren’t any others anywhere near them.  Really, it's the first time he’s felt any sense of isolation since stepping into the hall.  “You must know I don’t believe for a moment that you managed to make your way into this - admittedly fabulous - party on a lark and just happened to run into a woman you recognized form an internet article.”  

Gavin frowns up at at her.  “Am I really that transparent?”

“Yes.”  Though her words were stern she smiles now, a small movement of her lips, not quite reaching her eyes.  “But you get away with it because you are beautiful.”  She looks back at him.  “What is it you need me for, Mr. Free.  Business or pleasure?”

Keeping up appearances is always the best method when confronted like this.  Even though Gavin would ultimately play hard to get if it came down to any actual… pleasure… he sure as hell isn’t going to drop the flirting act now.  “At this point I’m thinking both,”  he takes a step up so that he’s closer to her, his hand sliding up the rails to rest dangerously close to hers.  “If that’s alright with you.”

“Oh absolutely.”  Victoria doesn’t even hesitate, looking like she would eat him alive any second now and he’d probably - physically at least - enjoy every second of it.  “What kind of business do you have with me then?  Since that is usually the more pressing of the two.”

“Well, Ms. Sheffield, it’s recently come to our attention that you are in need of some help.  And I would love to be able to help you in any way you may need.”

“And you came to discuss this in such a well populated place, because?”

“I didn’t. Just wanted to say hi.”  He assures her.  Gavin gestures out over the crowd then back down to where they’re standing, thoroughly alone within the masses. “Maybe find an excuse to get you alone for a few minutes, then figure out a time we could really get down to business later on.”

Victoria Sheffield takes her time considering his words.  She's not one of the richest women in the country for nothing.  She considers her options and makes decisions that she never goes back on.  This much he knows from the crew discussing her business deals.  Right now, he's in her cross hairs, being judged, being decided on.  

When she turns Gavin almost lets his feelings of defeat become an audible groan.

But then she back at him, over her shoulder, with a playful grin and a light of mischief in her eyes.  

“Come along, Gavin.  I’d like you to meet some people.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr.](https://anthill-men.tumblr.com/)


	3. Mistakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The risk I took was calculated. But man, am I bad at math.

Mistakes were made.

Possibly big mistakes.

It’s not like James can’t recover from these mistakes.  But he is having a time struggling to convince himself he needs to.

Within twenty minutes of escaping the party he’s leaning back against the door of his other apartment.  This one is smaller - much smaller - with warm colors and soft, cushy, somewhat worn furniture.  It feels more like home than any other place he lays his head, though it's just as empty as all the rest.

Against the door he stops to breathe, to collect himself.

He should  _ NOT  _ have flirted with Gavin.

But it had felt so good.  It felt good to be so open and free, to smile and laugh.

Felt good to have someone really see him.

Except - 

He’s still hiding, isn’t he?

Does it even matter though?  James has one more obligation to keep soon before he gets to disappear from the public eyes for another six months or so.  And it's not like he would see the guy there.  He wouldn’t even be there.

So he’s worrying over nothing.

Mountains out of molehills.

Except.

Except. Except. Except.

Except he  _ wants  _ to see Gavin like that again.  Just like that.  Just as open and free to flirt and have that look in his eyes.  A look that isn’t tinged with fear.  James can have that.  He can go on real dates, be seen in public, be something real.

James bangs his head back against his door a few times before finally pushing off and heading towards his bathroom.  

He needs to think this through.  He needs to sort himself out, remind himself what is important.  Never mind that what is important has changed a lot over the last couple of years and he hasn’t been sure of where anything stands on his priorities in far too long as it is.

People he cares about have changed.  Gotten older.  Started moving on.  Hell, the  _ number  _ of people he cares about has even changed.

He needs - 

No.

Beneath his bathroom sink, nested between the porcelain and wood, James depresses a small button.  In silence the contents of the cabinet sink into the floor while a panel opens to reveal a small set of shelves loaded down with various shades of white, black, and ret pots of face paint. 

James knows exactly what he needs.

* * *

 

 

 

Its nearly two am before Gavin finally leaves the glitzy soiree.  He’s riding the high of a job well done and the thrum of energy humming just beneath his skin is compounded by the amount of time he had spent with so many people.  Beneath him his bike roars as he speeds through the streets of Los Santos, taking corners too fast and basically ignoring that traffic laws are even a thing.

He doesn’t want to go home, that much he knows.  Sleep is a long way off and sure he could fire up the xbox for a while but that wouldn’t really burn off the energy as much as just kill time.  Which isn’t what he’s looking for at all.  An idea pops into his head that, because he’s Gavin he doesn’t bother second guessing before he’s telling Siri to call Ryan through the earpiece in his helmet.

It doesn’t even take half a ring.

“Speak.” Ryan commands as always.

Gavin doesn’t suppress his grin.  “And always carry explosives!”  He figures it would be funnier if Ryan ever said ‘speak quietly’ but the sense of humor between the two of them has never made much sense.  Which is probably why Ryan laughs anyway.

“What’s up, Gavin?”

“I just left a massive party and need to unwind.  Blow off some steam.  Want to piss off some Vines?”  The Vines can’t even really be considered a rival crew anymore, given their leader abandoned them a year or so back.  But it is still fun to dick with the people who are clinging to what’s left.

“I don’t know, Gav.  I’m kinda busy.”  He doesn’t actually sound busy.  More like he’s trying to skirt the truth and in the background Gavin hears a sound of tug boats.  He immediately does a slide on his bike to head in the opposite direction, north-east, and out of town.  Gavin knows exactly where Ryan is.

“Are you at target practice?  Without me!  I’m hurt!”  Gavin laughs, completely failing at actually sounding offended.

“Uh, no I’m not?”

“I’m coming out there.”

“If I told you not to you’d come anyway, wouldn’t you.”

“You know me so well, Ry!  I’ll see you in thirty.”

If it weren’t literally impossible, Gavin would swear he hears the way the other man rolls his eyes as he hangs up.

It's been about a year since they first wound up there together after a job.  Far north of town there is a little cove where the water is extremely still and short cliffs surround it just enough no one can really see you from the road.  The entrance from the water is small enough boats tend to ignore it too.  That first night they had just narrowly escaped capture and - like now - Gavin had wanted to blow off some steam.  Back then though there was a little bar he liked to drop in on in Paleto Bay.  It wasn’t the classiest joint but the birds were gorgeous.  

Only, on his way out of town that night he had found himself side by side with Ryan on his bike and wound up silently challenging him to a race.  Problem was, of course, a race tends to need a finish line to determine a winner.  By the time they had passed Grapeseed - going the long way round - they weren’t really racing any longer but rather just cruising along, not going anywhere, really.

Ryan had called him first.

“Want to blow something up?”

“Oh god, yes.”

They had spent another twenty minutes or so scouting something suitable, which is really hard to do in the dark, even under a full moon.  But eventually one of them had spotted a small boat down on the beach, its metal sides shining in the moonlight.  The place they’d found it hadn’t exactly been the most inconspicuous so they had wandered the beach a bit before coming across the cove.  It had been the perfect spot.  For hours they dicked around, talked about nothing while talking the whole time, and Ryan had even helped Gavin work on his sticky bomb tossing technique.  They’ve gone back dozens of times, sometimes working on sniping - which Gavin needs way more work on than Ryan - sometimes burning shit, sometimes blowing stuff up.

And sometimes, they do nothing at all until the sun comes up.

Gavin hasn’t been back to that little bar since.

He’s parking his bike next to Ryan’s in a good hiding spot before it feels like any time has really passed.  The walk down to their cove can be tricky and with every step Gavin expects to hear gun fire, or the crackle of flames or something of that nature.  But other than an occasional light splash of water, its complete silence.  

 When Gavin finally gets to the bottom and spots Ryan he stops dead in his tracks and stares, flabbergasted.

The older man’s leather jacket is laying across a rock, his boots next to it.  His plain white t clings to the well defined curves of muscle and his hair is pulled back into his usual loose, somewhat messy ponytail.  His makeup is perfectly in place as always.  None of this is new to Gavin.  It's a drool worthy site, to be sure.  And he loves that - as far as he knows - he’s the only one who gets to see him relaxed like this.  But none of that is what has him glued to the spot.

At Ryan’s feet is a large pile of small, smooth stones and Ryan Haywood, the Vagabond, terror of Los Santos, is skipping them across the still water like a child.

“What.  The Actual. Hell, Ryan?” Gavin still can’t move, not even sure he remembers how, at the moment.

Ryan shrugs and gives him an easy smile.  “Who’s gonna tell me I can’t?”  He asks before tossing another one.  The rock only skips a couple of times, not making it very far at all.  There’s a little buoy a decent bit out from where they are and after a couple of throws Gavin can tell that’s what he’s aiming for.  

“I will, for one.  You’re a grown man!”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Which, okay.  Gavin doesn’t really have a decent answer for that.  They both do childish shit for fun on the regular.  “Alright.  Fair play.  But why did you suddenly have an urge to play skippy stones? Feeling nostalgic?”

“Nah.  Can’t be nostalgic for something you never did.”

“You’re having a laugh.  Never?”

“Gavin.  When most kids were out skipping stones my dad was teaching me how to shoot whatever pistol my tiny body could manage and the proper care and keep of the ones I couldn’t hold yet.  Oh, and the basics of explosives.”  His next stone doesn’t skip at all, splashing loudly with the sheer amount of force Ryan puts behind it.  

Gavin knows none of their crew had anything that could be considered normal lives.  They are all criminals.  Ryan is a cold blooded killer.  Troubled pasts kind of come with the territory.  

His own isn’t exactly rainbows and unicorn farts either.

But they’d never really talked about it before.

Somehow, Gavin gets the feeling now isn’t really the time to push the subject.  He finds a big enough boulder to sit on and plops down, kicking out of his own shoes. 

“I can’t believe you’re so shit at this.”

“And why is that?”

“Have you seen you throw a knife?  You’ve got, literally, deadly aim with the flippy flippy bits of throwing bobbles n things.”

For a second Ryan looks like he’s going to try and puzzle that sentence out but then shakes his head and tosses another rock.

“If you ever want to make it out to that buoy you have got to fix your terrible technique.”

Ryan stops mid swing to turn and look at him.  The moon isn’t full by any means, but it's giving them enough light Gavin can see his amused smile quite clearly.

“So you’re the expert then?”

“Yup!  Now.  When you go to make your toss lean back some so the trajectory is more horizontal to start with.  Gotta give it a massive amount of spin, too.”

This time, following Gavin’s suggestions, Ryan gets two more skips in.  He lets out a low whistle.  “I'll be damned.  Guess you’re good for something.”

“Occasionally, yeah.”

For a few minutes they are both silent, Gavin watching as Ryan continues to just - skip stones.  He’s not really getting any better yet, but it's certainly not for lack of trying.  It feels strange that this doesn’t feel strange to Gavin.  Which is extra weird but Gavin long ago accepted his brain likes to go in several different directions at once.  Seeing the Vagabond make up is all he’s ever known of Ryan.  Its designed to be intimidating.  He doesn’t talk much around others because - in his own words - it means no one knows what he’s thinking and keeps people on their toes.  It honest to god should be weird to be comfortable with this man, relaxed, at ease.  The others are still sometimes on tiptoe around him when Ryan goes too quiet, even after all this time.  But Gavin lives for those moments when, despite not even seeing his face, he feels like he’s really seeing Ryan.

“So how was the party?”

“What?”

“Your party.  Said you needed to blow off some steam?  What kind of shindig was it that you needed to recover from?”

“Oh.”  Gavin kicks at the sand.  “A fancy one.”  He says, gesturing to his clothes.  “And one with far too many people.  Was for work though so I couldn’t just beg off when I’d had enough.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t find someone to take you home.”

Gavin isn’t.  He hadn’t actually had the desire to be ‘taken home’ by anyone in quite some time.  Which is a marked changed from his behavior when Ryan had first met him, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Nah.  Spent most of the evening with our new client.  She seemed keen, of course, but I’d rather not blow it for the whole crew on the first night.”  He shrugs.

“I thought we - well, you guys - wouldn’t meet her till next week?”  Another rock drops like lead into the water.  He’s right, they weren’t supposed to be moving so soon, but - 

“Everyone gave her the thumbs up fairly quickly and the gala was a golden opportunity.  Took some pretty heavy leg work to get there but we couldn’t pass it up.”

“Worth it?”

“Hell yes.  The Gavin Free magic hit it out of the park.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”  Ryan’s words are fond and honest.

Gavin really can’t help but smile at him.

There’s a lot of things Gavin can’t help, actually. Like keeping his big mouth shut. “You won’t believe this, but I ran into - quite literally - that James guy we saw on the news the other day.”  Gavin, immediately, regrets saying it.  He never thinks before speaking and it gets him in trouble.  Ryan does  _ not  _ need to hear about him flirting with someone.

Although…

Since he’s already thrown it out there thanks to his poor impulse control he could run with it - use it gauge Ryan’s reactions.

The next rock misses the water entirely, careening off to the side and ricocheting off the face of the low cliff.  “Was he as much of a prick as you had guessed?”

“Quite the opposite, surprisingly.  I spilled my drink all over him and he proceeded to flirt with me!  I was in shock.  And to top it all off he was terrible at it.”

“Come on!”  To Gavin’s surprise Ryan sounds offended on the guys behalf.  “He couldn’t have been that bad.”

“It was awful, Ry.  Truly.  But it didn’t make any diff.  He could have recited the alphabet at me and I still would have acted a fool.  God, his eyes were just so  blue.  And i wanted to run my fingers through his hair it looked so damned soft.”   _ Why am I still talking?! _  Gavin wants to smack himself.

Ryan takes a few steps forward, arms outstretched for a dramatic flair with mirth in his words and a smile on his painted face.  “Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fades so suddenly.”

“Aw.  It wasn’t just that!  He was kind of adorable in the way he handled himself.  Though I fully admit the good looks were the primary cause of weakness of knees.”

_ It didn’t help that he looks a hell of a lot like what I’ve always imagined you look like under all that paint.   _ He thinks.

Or at least, he thinks he thinks.

But Ryan’s laughter abruptly dies and he turns away from Gavin so fast  _ Gavin’s  _ head is spinning.  He’s gone a bit rigid and Gavin wants to disappear into the ground.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

For a long time Ryan doesn’t answer and Gavin curses himself over and over.   _ Sometimes I should just stop talking.  Better yet, never have started.   _ When he’s acting a part, playing it up for a client or a mark, it's so easy.  It doesn’t really mean anything then.  But being real is so damned difficult, especially with so much on the line.  It seems like all he’s capable of doing is screwing it up.

Finally, Ryan moves again.  He twists his body back at a good angle and his pebble makes it further than ever.

“You should go for it.”

The vice that clamps down on Gavin’s heart shouldn’t be a surprise.  But even still, he’s not prepared for it; for the way it punches the air out of him.  Its his own fault, of course.  He’d started this whole conversation in the first place.  Maybe if he’d kept the final, damning thought successfully to himself the comment from Ryan would have been more teasing than the obviously explicit dismissal that hurts so much.

He’s not too keen on letting people know when he’s hurt though - “Can’t.  Wouldn’t even know how to find him again.”  Which isn’t true.  Gavin can find anyone he wants to.

This time he puts his hand over his mouth to be one hundred and ten percent sure he keeps his further thoughts to himself.   _ Please just go with it.  Drop it.  You should have dropped it. Jesus, I’m an idiot. _

“I understand our new client knows him.  Maybe she could properly introduce you.”

For the first time in all the many months they’ve been coming here together, an uncomfortable silence descends over their little corner of the world.  Gavin tries to ground himself by counting the skips of Ryan’s stupid rocks.

Blip. Blip. Plunk.

Anything to keep him from spouting off again.

Blip. Blip. Blip. Plunk.  

He’s not upset.  It’s a stupid thing to be upset over.

Blip. Plunk.

Maybe if he keeps telling himself that, he’ll believe it.

Plunk.

“Look. Gavin, I - “

“God damn it, Ryan.”  Both men start at the same time.  Gavin stands and stalks over to where Ryan is, the cool sand squishing beneath his socked feet. He bends down to pick up a handful of the other man’s rocks.  “You are, without a doubt, the worst person I’ve ever met at this.  Look at these rocks.  They are all shite!”  One after the other he tosses the horrendous-for-skipping rocks over his shoulder.  Though he’s avoiding eye contact he’s vaguely aware of the look of frustration on Ryan’s face slowly shifting back to the fond smile he’s so used to seeing.

And he hates it but it makes him smile, too.

“They’ve got to be round but flat, or they won’t get anywhere.”  Finally he finds the perfect one and holds it up for Ryan’s inspection.

“Gavin…”

“Ah ah… Rock.”  Gavin points.

Ryan takes a deep breath, then nods.  “Alright, hot shot.  You gonna show me how it's done?”

It's been years, but Gavin is determined to make this look good - look awesome, even.  Well, as awesome as one can look while skipping rocks, anyway.  He shifts a bit until his feet are planted just right, rolling the stone in his hand until his finger’s in the perfect spot for the perfect spin.  He twists, takes a deep breath, then snaps his arm out, the rock spinning out of his hand.  

It skips once, twice, keeps going, closer and closer to the buoy until finally colliding with a solid metallic thunk.

With a triumphant squeal, Gavin thrusts his hands in the air.  “SUCK MY KNO--”

The air he HAD been using to celebrate is knocked from Gavin’s lungs when Ryan tackles him to the ground just in time to avoid flaming debris from the buoy exploding.  Heat envelopes them as the fireball lights up their cove with brilliant flickers of orange and red.

“Ryan!”  Gavin blinks up at him, dumbfounded even as he’s being crushed by the larger man.

“Uh…”  A smile is working its way back to Ryan’s face.

“Ryan!”  He says louder this time.  “Did you put proximity mines on the buoy and then proceed to throw stones at it all night?”

“Maybe?”  Now his smile is full on, brightening his eyes.  Gavin can even hear it in his voice.  

“What the hell?  Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly?  I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“OH, sod off you complete bollocking arsehole!”  Gavin makes a feeble attempt at pushing him off before going limp with his arms outstretched and a massive resigned sigh.  

Not until Gavin’s apparent defeat does Ryan move, rolling to the side so he’s laying next to Gavin in the sand.  His laughter bursts from him after that, the sound of unashamed glee that’s always present when he does something like this.  It’s joyous, a little evil, and really hot.

Gavin does his best not to join in.  He’s still hurt, and burying it as deep as he possibly can.

But the laughter still comes, he still catches Ryan’s eye and they both laugh harder.

Its enough, for now, to just pretend he’s gonna be okay.  

 

* * *

 

 

“Would you all shut your goddamn holes for five fucking minutes so we can get through this and move on with our lives?”

“Jesus, Geoff.  Language!”  Michael spins in his chair with a teasing grin on his face and for a second Gavin thinks Geoff might actually jump the conference room table and strangle the man.

The week since meeting their new client has been a bit crazy - to put it mildly.  Their crew is excellent at multitasking but between avoiding Ryan, finishing up other jobs, trying to make it look like he’s  _ not  _ avoiding Ryan, collecting intel for newer jobs, and working over some politicians, Gavin is in need of a nice little nap.  So instead of paying his boss any attention whatsoever, or joining in the rucus his friends are all making, he lays back in his chair with his feet propped up on the expensive mahogany table, head cradled in his hands and sunglasses firmly in place.  The conference room is pretty dimly lit for the most part.  It's not like he really needs to pay attention anyway.  Gavin was at the two am in-a-secret-bunker-clandestine meeting with Victoria.  He already knows what the big picture is.  A rival has some black mail.  Blackmail is kept in a super secure case in a super secure vault inside an INSANELY secure manufacturing compound.  Oh, and it’s Milton’s Manufacturing - the company that makes security tech Gavin has wet dreams over.  Facial recognition software was around long before they were, but they perfected it.  Their cameras are state of the art and one day soon they’ll probably be the ones that come out with equipment that can actually do the TV show thing where you can zoom in on the recording and actually get some detail.  There are dozens of other technologies that came before them that Milton’s has found a way to make better.  Victoria wants the briefcase - still locked - so she can destroy whatever they’ve got on her herself.  But Geoff needs proof of its existence so Gavin’s left brainstorming ideas on how to crack their Fort Knox level of security just to get a peek inside - let alone what he’ll need to accomplish for them to actually steal anything. 

His thoughts drift to all of the equipment he will have to break out for this one, his biggest, best, and more importantly most fun.  There’s a few new toys he could really go for, would make his life a million times easier.  Some little things he just hasn’t picked up yet, a couple big ones he hasn’t had a chance to acquire.  Thoughts of his own tech, combined with the way his brain has filtered the chaos of the room to nothing more than white noise is just calming enough he can truly start to relax.

Gavin sighs, and closes his eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

With a jerk he is startled awake, his arms shooting out to steady himself when his legs are pushed off the table without warning.  “Michael!”  Gavin blinks, snatching his own glasses away so he can have a clear view.  The room has emptied of all but the two of them, Michael staring down at Gavin with hands on his hips and a reproachful look on his face.  

“I asked you a question.”

“And I’ve no idea what you’re on about!”  Gavin tries to put his legs back on the table out of principle more than any actual desire to continue lounging.  But Michael just hits them away again.

“Bullshit.”  His quiet response has Gavin sitting up a little straighter because he realizes that while he’s mouthing off just as much as he always does, Michael isn’t actually yelling at him.

“You’re worried about me?”

Michael looks at Gavin like he’s grown a second head.  “Of course I’m worried about you.  You’re my best friend, idiot.  And while I’m used to you pissing Geoff off in meetings, it's usually by being loud and obnoxious, not sleeping through it.  On top of that, you typically talk more in an hour than you have all week.”

Struggling for a good excuse, Gavin squirms, avoiding eye contact.  “Just had a lot on my mind recently.  We’ve been busy and I - “

“Who did you piss off?”  Now Gavin looks him dead in the eye.

“No one!  Michael - “

“Who did you sleep with?”

“God.  No one!”  Unfortunately.

“Did you hit on someone you shouldn’t have?”

Gavin’s never been able to lie to Michael so he looks away again - he really can’t help it - and tries to skirt the subject.  Technically, he hadn’t.  But the semantics don’t really matter when the outcome was the same and he’s not about to verbally go down that rabbit hole.

“I mean… I didn’t, uh…”

“Oh god, Gavin.  Was it one of the crew?  Was it Geoff?”

A disgusted look and shake of his head is all Gavin manages before Michael barrels on.

“Jack?”

“Do I look like I have a death wish!?”

Slowly, Michael leans in close.  He puts his hands on either side of Gavin’s chair and says with a quiet warning, “Gavin.  Please.  For the love of god tell me it wasn’t R-”

“LADS!”

The door of the conference room bursts open, flooding it with bright lights that highlight Jeremy in a halo of gold like the angel he is - at least to Gavin.

“Jeremy!  You have terrible timing.”  Michael warns through gritted teeth.

Jeremy has perfect timing.  “Lil J!”  Gavin’s sudden spin in his chair throws Michael off balance and he stumbles back while Jeremy shuts the door and makes his way over to them.  Gavin knows their conversation isn’t over.  When Michael wants an answer he doesn’t give up that easily.  But for now, Gavin has time to figure out how he’s going to weasel his way out of it.

“Alright, listen up, boys.  Rimmy Tim is here to make your lives a million times more awesome.”  He hops up onto the table and sits so that he and Michael are on either side of Gavin’s chair and puts a tablet face up in front of them.

Michael rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.  “The only thing you have ever done to my life is make it exponentially more gaudy.”

“Michael.”  Gavin slaps his leg.  “Be nice to the man.  Let him talk.”

For a moment Jeremy sits frozen, eyes darting between Michael and Gavin like he’s just stepped into the twilight zone.  Gavin has to give him a reassuring smile and hope it works.  The arguments about being nice to Jeremy are almost exclusively done the other way around.

“Uh, so, anyway…”  Jeremy shakes himself out of it, his smile quickly back in place.  “Gentlemen, may I present to you the Chey Tac Intervention XK-17.”  He taps the screen of his tablet, bringing it to life.  The image of a high powered sniper rifle slowly rotates around.  “This baby has a meteorological and environmental package on board and its built in computerized scope combined with laser precision tooled weaponry are so perfect even Gavin could take out an ant on Mount Gordo from the top of Chiliad.”  That’s probably a stretch.  Even if he or Jack could pull that off, even Gavin knows he would have trouble hitting a barn at that distance.  Even with computer assisted help.  

“This is a toy that screams ‘Jeremy’ not Michael and Gavin.  How are our lives supposed to be better?”  Michael gives him a disbelieving look.

“Well well well.  Funny you should ask.”  Jeremy, with the amount of flair to match his tone, brings up another window on his tablet.  Before he can even say anything, Gavin is leaning forward taking it in, maybe drooling a little.  

“That’s a HiFa 9000!”  He’s in awe, voice quiet in his reverence.  You don’t speak of the god machine with anything short of worship.  Not many people outside of the cyber crime world know of its existence, but those who do know it’s a one of a kind.

Well, five of a kind.  

In the world of technology, something seven years old like it is would normally be considered out of date, obsolete.  But the HiFa’s creators were well ahead of their time, and cheeky to boot.  HiFa stands for ‘Hacks into Fucking anything’ and by all accounts, that’s an understatement.  It’s memory banks are phenomenal, able to run algorithms that normally take hours in a matter of minutes.  It’s even rumored to be able to hack into some hard wired signals like they were going across unsecured wi-fi.  

They sold five, at quite a hefty price tag, before the CIA had come in and not only destroyed the entire stock, but shut the company down and did whatever they could to erase them from the memories of the internet.  

But the darknet doesn’t forget so easily. 

“You’re going to have to put the math together for us here, Jeremy.”  Michael warns while Gavin is still transfixed, his hopes slowly rising at what he may have in store for them.  “We aren’t mind readers.  What does the Hee-Faa-Whoosits have to do with a gun?”

At this, Jeremy smiles wider, all teeth and over excited, almost shaking with it.  “They both happen to be sitting in a warehouse in Del Perro.”  The guy even bounces a little.  

“No no no no.  That’s Sovereign territory.”

Jeremy nods, like he’s conceding a point.  “Yeah, and it's their warehouse too.”

Michael. Loses. His shit.

But Gavin and Jeremy, used to the way Michael can get lost on a rampage of anger and vitriol, ignore him completely.  Gavin looks up at Jeremy in awe.  “How the hell did they get their hands on one of these?!”

“Rumor is they bought it.”  Jeremy leans in close, voice dropping like he’s telling him some great, long held secret.  “From the company.”

“What!?  With like, real money?”

“Yeah.  They were one of the first and only five.  It’s value skyrocketed the second the government shut it down and destroyed all the rest.  But no one’s ever sold one.”

Gavin almost squeals.  “Why isn’t it in a vault?”

“Because they’re moving a lot of shit later this week and this is part of it.  Security is a little tight around it, for obvious reasons, but they’re loading up cargo containers and moving it out Friday.  Prime for picking…”

Michael has had enough.  He snatches the tablet away from them and slams his fist on the table.  Both men jerk back.  “You guys are fucking morons!  We can’t attack The Sovereign.  Geoff will kill us if they don’t first.”

“If we do it right, no one will know it was us.”  Gavin’s gears are turning, plans going through his head a mile a minute.  They’re moving things Friday - probably late at night.  It’s currently Sunday afternoon.  They have five days to scout, plan, and pull off an extremely dangerous theft and make it look like some nobodies did it successfully entirely by accident.  

“Which is why I’m only talking to the two of you about it.”

“No.  No that’s not how it works.  Just fucking… listen.  Damnit.  We don’t have any accords with The Sovereign.  We don’t have any treaties or deals because their leader is so unknown the FBI don’t even know who to look for.  They’re the only crew left who can kick our asses from here to Sunday and we stay alive by  _ not pissing them off.” _

“But  _ we  _ aren’t going to piss them off.”  Gavin grins up at him.  “Some random trio of would be thieves thought they saw paydirt to ‘make it big’ and hit the warehouse.”

“Does that mean you’re in, Gavin?”

“Hell yeah!”

“Michael?”

Gavin knows he’ll cave.  He protects them both like family - as they do for him - and he’s loyal to the crew, but he’s also not a snitch.  Michael will join them, and he’ll give them hell the entire time.

Finally, Michael groans, running a hand down his suddenly exhausted looking face.

“Fuck, we’re all gonna die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be getting back to some action next chapter!
> 
> Come hang out with me on [Tumblr!](https://anthill-men.tumblr.com/)


	4. Dinner

> **Alaina started a Group Conversation with YOU and Thomas**
> 
> **Alaina:** _ Was high school actually supposed to prepare us for this? _
> 
> _ What’s wrong now? _
> 
> **Thomas** _**:** Al thinks mom should get a refund on all that private school tuition because she made a B on her first paper this term. _
> 
> _ What are you asking me for?  I didn’t even go to college! _

James looks down at his phone with a soft smile before sticking it back in his pocket.  Hopefully his baby brother and sister will help keep him distracted through the evening.

He’s standing outside the Beer Garden, an upscale and honestly quite beautiful restaurant in the Vinewood Hills.  There’s a main dining area with a waitlist several months long on the first floor, a couple of private party rooms upstairs, and a garden that covers both the east side of the property, the second floor terrace and the entire roof.  For once, James actually likes this place.  Its classy without showing off about it with warm, wood finishes and classic decor.  The smile his siblings give him doesn’t fade as he continues on to the dinner party celebrating the success of the charity’s event.

As he winds his way through the lower level he makes sure to wave and smile a little brighter at the people he recognizes, stopping for a few quick ‘how’ve you been’ conversations.

At the bottom of the stair, his phone starts buzzing again.

> **Thomas:** _ Someone’s just stressing out _
> 
> **Thomas** : _ And its only September! _
> 
> **Alaina** _**:** Says the man who has changed his major - on paper - 4 timers in one year so he would ‘get it right but not fall behind’  >.< _
> 
> _ I thought we were up to six at this point? _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ That hurts, J.  I thought that was just between us. _
> 
> **Alaina** : _ Wait.  6? Since when!?! _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ THOMAS HAVE YOU BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME?! _

_ Sorry man. _

The twins are nineteen and as much as they would deny it, a hell of a lot alike when it comes to their worries, cares and fears.  Though admittedly they express those similarities in different ways.  College has been good to them both, even if James misses the hell out of them.  They grew up with him in their lives, at their adoptive mother’s house constantly.  But as high school got crazy they had less and less time to spend with him.  Now college…

Well, college is a good six hours away.

They talk all the time though, like now.

So that’s something, at least.

James reaches the top of the stair where an employee stands to help guide him in the right direction.  Dinner won’t start for another half hour or so, so when he walks through the large double doors he’s not surprised at all to see most of those who have arrived just standing around talking.  There’s quiet music playing, just enough to fill the space between conversations.

And because he’s now accepted where he stands when it concerns lady luck and her disdain for him, James is almost surprised to see an - up to this point unexpected - familiar face.  Standing at the far wall of windows that over looks the garden, Gavin is chatting away with a few members of the board, smiling politely at whoever is speaking.  The sleeves of his white shirt are folded up to his elbows and the dark vest he’s wearing fits  _ perfectly.   _ Gold adorns both wrists, a few fingers and his neck, dipping just below the first button of his shirt so he can’t see what hangs from the delicate chain.  

James is left a little dumbstruck.  

Every possible scenario for how the evening could go from here, how they may interact, seems to go through his head all at once.  His anguish over whether any interactions with him like this are good ideas in the first place has not disappeared.  But the sheer amount of want has tampered it considerably . And while he’s still struggling to make a decision, that burning need to just have something good happen is almost so overwhelming it makes him ache.

He’s pretty sure whatever he does is going to be the wrong answer.

Apparently he's been staring too long because Gavin seems to spot him, and the younger man’s smile immediately becomes brighter.  When he nods at James, his face lit up as if he’d been waiting on him this whole time, James’ stomach does a little flip.  By the time Gavin’s smile goes a touch curious he realizes he should probably react in a way that isn’t just staring with his mouth open.

So he gives a small, awkward, finger wave that earns him a laugh. 

He can’t hear it over the din of the crowd and the music but it doesn’t matter.  James knows what it sounds like.  The sound of it, the way it twists up his insides with equal parts joy and desire, will be burned into his memory for the rest of his life.

It's only his phone buzzing in his pocket that distracts him enough things don’t get weird.  

Weirder.  

He wanders off to a quiet corner to read it. 

> **Thomas:** _Eh.  Been a while since I’ve been read the riot act._
> 
> _ Over due. _
> 
> _ Maybe she’ll go easy on you this time. _
> 
> **Alaina** : _ Shut up. _
> 
> **Alaina** _ : T.  I don’t get why you don’t just go general studies till you sort yourself out. _
> 
> **Thomas** : _ I don’t get why I can’t just drop out and join J in his life of luxury _

_ No. _

James has to force himself to put down his phone and not go on about staying in school even as it continues to buzz.  Their mother instilled an amazing work ethic in both of them and, like James, they both get bored when they aren’t being productive.  Unlike James, however, they don't have any of his metric fuck ton of baggage - he made absolutely sure of that.  They also don’t have anyone to be responsible for except themselves.  People whose very lives are what they are because of his mistakes.  Thomas and Alaina have lived relatively normal - for a given definition of the term - upper middle class existence.  James has built his  _ entire life  _ around making sure of that using the skills he’s honed over the years and a meticulously separated division of his own existence.

Luckily, they tend to keep each other in line and barring that, their mother is phenomenal at it.

James just gets to be the aloof older brother who spoils them rotten, does nothing important with his life, and loves them more than breathing.

Which is absolutely fine because they’d probably - no, definitely - would never speak to him again if they knew even a tiny fraction more than that.  

“James?”

When he turns to see Gavin, who is smiling with his hands splayed out in front of him, the heaviness threatening to pull at James’ heart all but vanishes.

“No drinks to spill on you this time, promise!”

James laughs.  “Good thing too.  I’d hate to have to leave before the appetizers even come.”

“That would be absolutely tragic.”  He nods with exaggerated gravity.

“It’s Gavin, right?”  James says the second he remembers he’s only supposed to have only met the man once for about sixty seconds.

Gavin looks a little surprised, but pleased.  “Yeah.  Kind of impressed you remembered, actually.”

“It would be hard to forget you,  _ Mr. Bond. _ ”  He gives the last bit an evil sort of villainous flair, but then tops it off with a warm smile.  “And not just because you did me a favor by ruining my least favorite suit.”

“Oh?  So now you owe me, then?”

“Well…”  he trails off with a shrug, enjoying the way Gavin smiles, all teeth, as if he’s won something.  “I do have to ask,”  He says, shifting subjects.  “I know you’re not an employee of the charity and I also know you aren’t a spouse of one of the board - do you just have a thing for crashing our events?”  James gives him a teasing grin, one eyebrow raised high, knowing full well who he’s here with.

“Oh!  NO, I’m here with V.”  Gavin answers, nonplussed by James’ inquiry.

“Who?”

“Victoria.  You know her?”

A wicked smile comes over James’ face.  “My whole life, as a matter of fact.  Did uh, did she ask you to call her V?”

Gavin’s smile falters.  “Yeah.  Why?”

“Well,”  James takes a miniscule step back, away from Gavin.  “I just needed to know so I could remember not to say anything too forward.  It’s not right to be so friendly with someone who’s already been claimed.”  He teases.

“What!”  Claimed?  I’m not, I - “  There is a flicker of panic in Gavin’s eyes and a slight chirp of frustration escapes his throat.  

James has to bite his lip not to laugh even as the familiar sound has his stomach doing somersaults.

“No.  Nope.  NOT claimed.  Not like that at all.  We’re barely friends.  Just business associates.  I’m here because I’m interested in working with the board.”

“That’s what they all say.”  James leans in close, taking a deep inhale of the spiciness of Gavin’s cologne that makes him a little light headed.  “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

“Okay?”

“The only men who have ever called her that are all the ex-husbands.  Oh, and can’t forget the future ex-Mr. Sheffields, of course.”

For about five seconds Gavin seems to quietly soak that information in.  But then a switch is flipped and his look morphs from worry to confusion in a blink of an eye.  Which is actually quite a common occurrence.

“Wait.  Why would they be called Mr. Sheffield.  Men don’t take the woman's name.”

“Gavin.”  James stares at him blankly, blinking once or twice before shaking himself out of it.  “It's a figure of speech.  A play on words.”  

“Well which one is it then?  A figure of speech or a play on words because those are two very different things.”

“I… what?  No they aren’t.”

“Yes.  They are.  One is like, an idiom right?  That at first glance is kind of gibberish but taken metaphorically makes sense usually in a cultural context anyway.  And play on words is a just a damn pun!”

“Some could be both?”  James asks slowly, not quite sure of his response but even less sure how they suddenly wound up in a Gavin tangent.

“No they can’t.”  At least he’s still smiling.  “Because if you turn a figure of speech into a pun it's no longer a figure of speech it's just a bloody pun, innit?”

James gapes, tries to say something, then stops.

“Gavin.  That doesn’t make any sense!” 

Suddenly Gavin’s smile freezes and a strange look clouds his eyes, almost like he’s trying to remember something while he stares at James.

But before James can properly panic, he’s saved by Victoria’s impeccable sense of timing.

“There you are!  You wandered off and I hadn’t a clue what you’d gotten yourself into.”  At first James thinks she’s talking to him, even though he hadn’t seen her yet.  Gavin reacts though, and he remembers he’s not the only man in her cross hairs this evening.  “Oh, and James has graced us with is presence I see.  How accommodating of you.”  She gives him a quick wink before turning back to Gavin.  “I also see that it appears you have met our resident recluse.” 

“We ran into each other last week.”  Gavin admits with a smirk at James.

“In a manner of speaking.”  James adds with a small smile back.

“Well, you will have plenty of time to catch up over dinner, I’m sure.  But at the moment I must steal you away, Gavin.  There is one more person I’d like you to meet before dinner.  And James, I’ll speak to you later about how you haven’t phoned our young red-headed friend yet.”  She gives him a semi-serious glance before guiding Gavin away with a delicate touch on his arm. 

James watches them go, mouthing ‘Bye, Mr. Sheffield’ at Gavin when he looks back over his shoulder.  It gives him an enormous amount of glee that Gain’s eyes flash briefly with fear before he turns away.

What he had told Gavin hadn’t exactly been one hundred percent the truth.  His dad had called her that and a few of their other business partners as well.  But it was way too much fun to mess with Gavin.

With no one else he has any desire to speak to actually present, James heads to his seat, taking the chance to check his messages.  

> **Alaina:** _  Absolutely not. _
> 
> **Alaina** _**:** And you know why, now drop it. _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ XP _
> 
> _ Shouldn’t you two be studying or partying or experimenting with weed or whatever college kids do? _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ Out of it. _
> 
> **THomas** _ : None of my classes require studying. _
> 
> **Thomas:** _I’m playing worms._
> 
> **Alaina:** _ DUUUUDE!  Send an invite.  Or should I come over there and kick your ass in person? _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ Bring it. _
> 
> _ Be nice to your sister. _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ What!?!?!?! _
> 
> **Thomas** : _ SHe’s the won who said… but… WHAT?!?! _
> 
> _ When she kicks your ass in the game, be nice to her in real life. _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ HAhahahahaHAHAHAhaHAHAhHAahAHAhAhA _
> 
> **Thoma** _**s** : -.- _
> 
> **Alaina** _**:** AJHAAhaahahahAHAHAaaaaaa _
> 
> **Alaina** : _ OH MY GOD. _
> 
> **Alaina** _ : JAMES! _

Suddenly James’ screen is filled with a terrible picture of a t.v. screen with his face on it.  He’s in the suit he wore at the gala, mid sentence on stage.  He groans.

> **Thomas:** _Dude.  You need a haircut._
> 
> _ My hair is fine. _
> 
> _ Why the hell am I on the news up there? _
> 
> **Alaina** : _ Fuck if I know.  But I just saved it!  >:) _

“When I saw you on the television a few weeks ago I told all my friends you looked like a prick.”

James jerks in surprise at Gavin sneaking up and talking right behind him in a low voice.  He relaxes, though, when he sees the other man’s amused smirk as he takes the seat next to him.  “Turns out?  I was spot on.  You are a complete arse.”

“Gavin.”  James puts a hand over his heart.  “You say such sweet things!  What could possibly have inspired your beautiful words?”  He can tell Gavin’s trying to hold back a laugh the way his check shakes and his eyes are alight with humor.

“There are at least four other people here tonight who call her V.”  Gavin speaks in a whisper while other people slowly join them at their table.

“Did you know two of her ex-husbands are on the board?”

Gavin gives him a long, searching look while Victoria takes her seat on the other side of him, completing their table.

“Goddamnit.”

James doesn’t even try to hold back his laughter - and it feels so damned good.  When Gavin finally joins him in it it feels even better.  On top of that, they set the tone for their meal, a few other guests at their table entertained by their mirth, even if they don’t know why they're so amused.

As the first course is served the conversation is light and plentiful, the eight others in their group joining them in telling light hearted, entertaining stories and catching up on local news and gossip.  James finds his interactions with Gavin a strange combination of equal parts ease and uncertainty.  It's easy because he knows Gavin.  He knows his sense of humor and the kinds of stories he finds enjoyable.  He knows how far he can take a joke and the best kind to get him to really laugh.

Its terrifying because he knows Gavin, but  _ James King  _ doesn’t. 

More than once he has to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t, something he shouldn’t know or a barb that calls back to experiences he doesn’t have.  Every time it happens he starts to feel guilty, but then Gavin laughs, or smiles, or just fucking talks and the selfish part of his heart he hasn’t let out since he was a child clings to it, to the way it warms him to his core.  

Thing is, no one from one part of his life has ever known about the other.  Not that there were really any people in the other part until recently.  For two decades everything he’s done has been to keep that clear division with very few missteps.  Even when he does slip up, the people on either side have never realized it before.  No one knows both parts - James King, lazy millionaire - and Ryan Haywood - The Vagabond, one of the top most wanted hitmen in the country.  They are separate entities, but parts of a whole.  Things he can do as James he could never do as Ryan and vice versa.  The people he knows and loves who know James would turn away from him if they knew of his life as Ryan. And if anyone knew The Vagabond’s real name the lives of those he cared about most would be destroyed - and possibly in grave danger.

Here, right now, sitting next to him and sharing in his laughter, is someone he cares for that knows both - even if the other man isn’t aware of it. 

At some point near the end of the main course someone at their table brings up the space-X program and how many of them know someone with plans to be on the first commercial space flight.  Gavin’s eyes light up like it's Christmas, leaning into the conversation and contributing, all while visibly waiting to pounce.  James knows exactly what is coming and sure enough, as soon as everyone seems to run out of things to say, Gavin springs his fish in space question.  Most just look at him as if he has lost his mind while a few - including Victoria, surprisingly - have a good laugh at it.

Alex, an older gentleman with long white hair sitting across from them, strokes his beard in thought.  “Well.  Does a fish on earth even know its on earth?”

Gavin gapes at him a moment before responding.  “Course it does.  Don’t it?”  He looks over at James - who is shaking with muffled laughter - like he’s seeking confirmation. 

“I don't know.  But wouldn’t you be able to actually get an answer if you used a scuba diver with a few more brain cells to spare instead?”

“That would defeat the point of the question though, would it not?”  Victoria chimes in lightly.

“Yes!  Thank you!”  Gavin claps and rubs his hands together.  “Someone in a scuba diver suit would obviously already know they were in space”

James shakes his head.  “That’s not the point though, is it?  If a scuba diver in a blob of water in space confirms that it doesn’t feel any different, then obviously a fish wouldn’t know any better.”

While they’re debating the best ways to get a swimmable pool of water into space someone comes up to Victoria and speaks to her quietly.  Gavin is in the middle of trying to explain that water is too ‘sloshy’ to send into space in large quantities - “ _ It’s a scientific term, promise!” -  _ when she interrupts them all with a soft apology. 

“Gentlemen I must beg your pardons.  Dessert will be served momentarily and I’m due to give a little speech before the gelato begins to melt.”  She pats her napkin down on the table with a smile at their group and everyone stands.  As each person gives their polite farewells, James’ phone starts going off again.  He uses the moment where everyone is distracted to sit and pull it out.

> **Thomas** : _  How long have you been speaking in public and you still screw it up? _
> 
> **Thomas** _**:** TWICE _

James takes a deep breath, glaring down at his phone.  He could ignore it, but that’s never any fun.

> _ Now you’ve seen it too!? _
> 
> **Thomas** _ : Al showed me! _
> 
> _ You’re supposed to be too busy getting your ass kicked to pick on me. _
> 
> **Alaina:** _  You usually only do that when you’re distracted. _
> 
> **Thoma** s: _ Oooh.  Was it a pretty face? _
> 
> _ No! Shut up! _
> 
> **Thomas** : _ That’s a yes. _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ I bet it was THE pretty face. _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ What was his name? _

He had told them about Gavin’s existence entirely by accident one evening a few months back in a terrible moment of weakness.  To be fair, it's the only name of anyone he knows that they don’t, well, didn’t, so they probably would have latched onto it anyway - but apparently he’d had a ‘look’ in his eyes.  Probably never going to live it down.

James’ phone is still going off when Gavin nudges him with his elbow.

“Ok, now that she’s not here, I’ve got to ask.”  He adjusts his seat and gets close to James, speaking low enough only he can hear.  “What’s her obsession with you and this Jessica bird?”

“Oh, god.”  James groans. He knew it had gotten bad and she had brought up the subject no less than four times during dinner.  But he hadn’t quite realized that it was enough for other people to notice.  “She’s an ex-step daughter of hers and if she weren’t strangely determined to find me a romantic partner she’d probably forget the girl existed.”  He drops his head with a sigh.  “Lovely young woman.  But not exactly my type.”

“And what exactly  _ is  _ your type?”

“Well, for starters not nineteen.”  He says with a half hearted laugh.  But then he meets Gavin’s eye and sees the almost hopeful look there.  It sobers him, and he grins, voice dropping.  “After that though, I’d say maybe a good sense of humor.”  James lets his eyes flicker around Gavin’s face in an obvious way.  “Maybe some soft green eyes and tanned skin.”  He raises his eyebrows and hums, pretending to think about it for a moment.  “Oh.  Can’t forget a curious mind.”

There’s no blush or shy look on Gavin’s face but rather something sly, like he’s been expecting it and is just aching for more.  “You know what?  I’m not  _ really  _ interested in what is about to be said up at that podium.”

“Okay?”

“And I am willing to bet you already know the general idea of what she’ll be on about.”  James nods slowly, curious where Gavin is going with this.

“Wanna sneak out to the gardens?”

It is hands down the best idea James has heard all day.  They wait patiently for a few minutes, letting dessert be served and Victoria take to the small dias at the front of the room.  As soon as everyone is sufficiently distracted - they don’t want to appear rude, after all - the pair make their quiet escape, slinking out through the double doors and down the hall.

The gardens are byond lush, pathways leading through thick green ferns on their level with beautifully kept wisteria trees down below.  Bright colorful flowers are placed at seemingly random intervals and a cool breeze rustles all the leaves together making a soft sort of white noise that fills the air.  Overhead a blanket of globe lights criss cross from the building to archways surrounding the terrace.  James takes a deep breath of the crisp air and smiles, content.

“You’re vibrating.”

“What?”

“Your pants.  They’ve been vibrating on and off for a few minutes.”  Gavin is still smiling, walking backwards slowly along the path as if to becon James to follow.  “I’m not surprised there are others vying for your attention.”  Like a moth to flame, James follows him without a second thought, the two only stopping once they’ve reached a quiet corner where they can’t be seen from inside but can look out over the city.  Music drifts up to them from somewhere down below, not quite loud enough to make out the words.  “Though I do wonder if I should be jealous.” 

James laughs, shaking his head.  “Do you have siblings, Gavin?”

“Yeah.”  He replies immediately and James has to do a double take - because he  _ hadn’t known that. _  “Older sister.  Terrible human being.  Love her to death.”

Something inside James heats up with excitement, cheering that he’s somehow actually managing to make this work, to find ways to know more, to know Gavin better than he could ever have brought himself to do otherwise.  

“I, uh.  Well I have two.  Twins.  And tonight they  _ may  _ be ganging up on me.”

“Aw.  You should text them back.  Maybe they’ll leave you in peace for a while.”

“Won’t work.”

“Come on.  Give it a go!”

It won’t work.  He knows this.  But to humor Gavin he makes a show of it, pulling out his phone, ignoring the “Oh my god, that thing is  _ ancient! _ ” comment and checking his messages.  

> **Thomas:** _ Gary? _
> 
> **Alaina** _**:** Greg. _
> 
> **Thomas** _**:** Garrett! _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ Giovani!!? _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ Galadriel. _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ That’s an elf! _
> 
> **Alaina:** _ Grayson _
> 
> **Thomas:** _ Gary? _
> 
> **Alaina** _**:** You said that already! _
> 
> _ I’ll change both of your trust funds. _

To be fair, he could have sent something less antagonizing.  Not that he means it (and they know that).  He nods to Gavin then holds up his now dark phone just in time for it to start going off again. 

Incessantly.

“There.  See?  Now I’ve made it worse!”

Gavin loses it, his laughter loud and free now that they are outside and relatively alone.  Everytime he starts to calm down and look back at James, the phone just buzzes again and his cheerfulness is renewed.  James, at first, just looks helpless.  Suddenly he’s hit with that gut twisting, heart clenching  _ want -  _ the desire to have Gavin like this, at his side, happy and so full of ridiculous joy.  It steals his breath and he’s smiling at him, that dopey grin he gets too often, where he’s looking at the younger man like he hung the moon.

Eventually, Gavin’s laughter does fade, though the light in his eyes just shines brighter.  “Its funny.”  He starts with a curious tone.  He takes a step closer and stares deep into James’ gaze.

“What is?”

“I’m honestly not usually this open with someone I just met.”

“I’ll be one hundred percent honest too, Gavin.  Me either.”  And that’s so true it almost hurts.

“Yeah.  I get that but like, this, this is really strange, right?  Because it usually takes me forever, sometimes months or years, and I Just - “ He lets out a huff of a laugh and shakes his head.  “I feel like I already know you.  Like I’ve known you for ages and I - “

James cuts him off with a searing kiss.

There’s no hesitation, no holding back from Gavin.  He deepens it immediately, pulling himself flush with James’ body, sliding a hand up along his neck and into his hair.  James holds him tightly, opening up for him, parting his lips at the slightest brush of Gavin’s soft tongue.  He shouldn’t have done this, but he doesn’t want anything else but Gavin right here, in this moment.  Gavin tastes of sweet white wine and despite his slight frame is solid and strong beneath his grasp.  James hadn’t been able to think of anything else to shut him up and right now, drunk on the way Gavin curls into him, the way he meets every one of his movements, he really doesn’t fucking care.  

Callused fingers find a decades old scar behind James’ right ear, always well hidden by his hair, and he lets a soft moan escape between them as shocks go barreling down his spine.  

His noise breaks the spell, the moment lost.  Gavin pulls back just enough that James has to chase after the kiss.  They are both breathless, still in each others arms and pressed together as one.  

When James looks, Gavin’s eyes are closed.

He shakes his head with a long, shuttering sigh.

“I can’t do this.”  Gavin’s words are like a slap across his face, quiet and heavy with regret even though he doesn’t move away.  The fear of losing this opportunity, of losing Gavin like this, makes James grip him just a little tighter even as confusion rattles his every thought and his mind can’t keep up with the whiplash.

“What? I don’t, I don’t understand?”

“I don’t either but I just-” Gavin’s fingers tighten in James’ hair, almost as if he’s afraid to let go too.  “I can’t and I - “  He finally opens his eyes, meeting James’ gaze for only a heartbeat before looking away almost as if he can’t bring himself to look at him.  When he pulls back he takes with him the flicker of hope that had been lit in James’ heart, the hope that he could have something, anything. That he could even pretend to be happy.  Even if he hadn’t yet figured out how any of it would actually work in the long run, he knows somehow, that this was the only way it ever could.  

“I’m sorry.”  


End file.
